Drift
by BonitaBreezy
Summary: Phil and Clint enter the Drift together for the first time.


Clint took a deep breath, rolling his bo staff in his hands as he watched Coulson put yet another Ranger flat on his back on the training mat. Coulson had taught Clint a lot, probably most of what he knew, and Clint just knew they were Drift compatible. It hadn't made much of a difference before, because Clint had still been in training and Coulson had had a Drift Partner. But Jasper had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he'd died in a kaiju attack, hundreds of miles away from Phil and their Jaeger. It had been almost six months since Coulson had been deployed, but the situation was getting even more critical, and there was a desperate need for the use of every Jaeger available. The Eagle Eye was still fully functional and Phil was a great pilot. He just needed a partner, and Clint was determined to be the one.

"Four-zero," announced Maria Hill, who was standing to the right of Marshall Fury, watching the proceedings with a clinical sort of disinterest. They were both as cold and hard as stone, but they kept the PPDD in smooth running order, and Clint trusted them to do what was best for everyone. Phil helped his opponent up off the floor, and then stood back at rest while waiting for his next potential partner. Clint swallowed harshly to soothe his dry throat and then stepped forward. They stared each other down for a long moment, and Phil lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk and Clint grinned back, making the first move because Phil never would. He swung up his staff, and Phil's was there to block it, but he had expected that. He stepped to the side, swinging his staff around again, just barely managing to block Phil's retaliation strike, and then the nerves melted away and it was like a dance. He knew how Phil would move; what steps he would take, what strikes he would make, how much force would be behind the strike when it did come.

Despite them being so well in tune with each other, they both did manage a few hits here and there, but it never felt like they were fighting. It felt like choreography, like a show they were putting on for the bystanders, and Clint knew before Maria called an end to the match that they would be Drift Partners. They'd have to be crazy to pair Phil with anyone else. He left to shower while Phil continued to test with the other available Rangers, but where he'd been nervous before, he was completely calm now. He knew there was no way anyone could compare to that connection he'd had with Phil back there. It was based on years of friendship and companionship and, on Clint's part, love. Nothing could stand up to that, he knew it.

After his shower and a change of clothes, Clint made his way to the mess, his stomach growling from the longer workout he'd put it through. He'd spent the whole morning training in preparation for the test in the evening, mostly because of nerves, and now his stomach was demanding to be fed. The mess was full to bursting, but Clint grabbed his bowl of thick stew and a heel of bread and wiggled into a seat between Natasha Romanoff, who piloted the Red Bolshevik with Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers who piloted Avenger Alpha with a man named Sam.

"Hey, we saw your test with Coulson today," Steve said. "You guys were way in sync."

"God I know, right?" Clint said excitedly, before digging in to his stew.

"You're definitely going to be the next pilot of the Eagle Eye," Bucky agreed, leaning around Natasha's other side to make eye contact.

"You shouldn't be so sure," Natasha said forebodingly, "After all, Phil's still got some of Jasper in there. How compatible were you with him?"

"Thanks for being a ray of sunshine, Nat," Clint grumbled, taking a vicious bite out of his bread. Natasha only shrugged daintily and continued eating. Natasha could be a real bitch sometimes, but Clint thought maybe that was why he liked her so much. He thought maybe the coldness was a side effect of growing up in Russia, but he would never say that out loud.

He finished the rest of his stew quickly while the others chatted around him and was mopping up the last dregs of it with his bread when Fury came up behind him, almost making Clint jump when he said, "Barton," in that serious way he did.

"Jesus!" Clint cried, ruining any chance he might have had of hiding his shock. "Yes sir?"

"Congratulations, you're the newest pilot of the Eagle Eye," Fury said, like it wasn't the greatest news Clint had ever heard in his life. He could feel the grin threatening to break across his face, but he tried not to look too enthusiastic. "Report to the bridge at oh eight hundred for the last of your testing."

"Yes sir," Clint answered, feeling a thrill rush through him at the thought. He was going to Drift with Phil, and he was finally going to be able to take a jaeger out and do some good. It was like everything he'd ever wanted all coming in at once, and he couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face. His elation didn't last long, though, because the alarms started sounding and immediately people were on their feet, rushing to get to stations.

"Red Bolshevik, you're up," Fury said, and suddenly Natasha and Bucky were all business, sliding out of their seats and heading off to suit up. Clint watched them go, and wondered what it would feel like to know that the only thing standing between a kaiju and thousands of people was him and Phil. He didn't want to be that greenie who thought that battle was glorious and great, but he was excited for his first fight anyway. He wanted to help, and now he really could.

People were running around in a very orchestrated manner, preparing for a kaiju attack, and Clint dutifully went down to the bunkers instead of sneaking up somewhere so he could watch the battle. The jaeger pilots who weren't in reserve in case the Bolshevik went down and the rest of the population of the Shatterdome who didn't work directly with the jaegers were spread out across one of four bunkers deep underneath the usual base. Some guys in the corner had already settled into a game of poker, while others were reading or talking to pass the time. There was even a woman curled up in the corner with a pillow, attempting to sleep. Once, they might have all cowered in fear and waited breathlessly to see what would happen, but the Shatterdome was right at the edge of the portal, and everyone there quickly got used to kaiju appearances.

"Clint, hey!" Clint turned to see Phil coming towards him, and again he couldn't stop the grin from stretching over his face.

"Did you hear?" he asked, and Phil nodded, offering his hand for a shake.

"Welcome aboard. I look forward to working with you." Clint grinned again and shook Phil's hand, before using it to pull him over to sit against a wall.

"Are you ready to be back out there?" he asked.

"Yeah," Phil answered, but he looked thoughtful. "It will be…strange, without Jasper. When you Drift, it's kind of permanent. Like…a part of your partner will always be mixed with you, even after they're dead and gone. I knew Jasper's mind as well as I knew my own, and it will be strange to have something new there, I think. But if there's anyone on this Earth I would trust with my mind, it's you."

Clint went kind of speechless at that. How was he supposed to respond to that much bald-faced trust?

"I…I'll do my best to live up to that," he said finally. Phil smiled, his eyes a little bit sad.

"I know you will. And I'll do my best to take care of you out there."

"Me too," Clint promised. They went strangely silent after that, and Clint knew that, on his part at least, it was because he didn't know how to put his feelings in to words. In the morning, it wouldn't matter. In a morning, they would share a mind and everything that was Clint would become Phil's. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Clint couldn't wait.

* * *

Despite his excitement about testing out the Eagle Eye, Clint slept hard that night. He'd gotten used to getting as much sleep as possible when he could, and nothing short of a kaiju rampaging through his bedroom was likely to wake him up before it was time. Still, when his alarm sounded he rolled out of bed immediately, awake and ready for the day. He didn't bother with breakfast, only brushed his teeth and slipped into the first clothes he found before heading towards Eagle Eye's Drivesuit room. He had to resist the urge to rest his hand against the emblem of an eagle with its wings outstretched and arrows clasped in its talons that was painted on the door.

There was already a flurry of activity even though he was a few minutes early, and the door had barely slid closed behind him when he was being ushered off by a technician to change into a circuitry suit. His heart was beating fast with exhilaration as he changed, the tight material of the suit warm against his skin. Whether the warmth was from the circuits or from his imagination, he didn't know. As soon as he was in the circuitry suit he was directed back towards the center of the room where some of the other techs were waiting with the battle armor. It was heavy and thick as they put it on him, but it didn't impede his movements any. Phil entered as they were tightening the armor into place, already dressed in his own circuitry suit, looking somewhat grim.

Some of Clint's own elation sunk at that revelation, but the more he thought on it the more sense it made. It would be Phil's first time in a Jaeger without Jasper, and that had to be affecting him some. Not to mention Drifting was a very serious thing. In just a few minutes they would be connected at the mind. Everything they were would be shared between them. Everything they'd ever done, all the things they were thinking, their very neurons would be pressed together like they were one unit. It was kind of nerve wracking, when Clint really thought about it.

He'd known, of course, that Phil would find out about Clint's feelings for him if they ever Drifted together, but he was willing to risk that. It was worth being slightly embarrassed if it meant he got to fight to protect his home, especially with Phil. He wasn't worried about Phil knowing everything about him, and he wasn't embarrassed to show Phil all the things he'd been through, because he knew it wouldn't make a difference. He trusted Phil with everything he was and everything he had, and he knew that was part of the reason why they were so compatible. He was a little nervous, but he knew that he would have no regrets.

He slid his helmet on while the techs attached the Spinal Clamp, watching the relay gel slide out of view, and he couldn't help the quickening of his breath. It was a huge mixture of nerves and excitement and a slew of other emotions he couldn't describe. He reminded himself sternly that they weren't even really being deployed yet, and if they were, hyperventilating would be the exact opposite of helpful. He forced himself to breathe normally, and then felt something he couldn't really describe. The only thing he could think of was like he was feeling the air around him twice, and he realized that Phil had put on his helmet and the relay gel was doing its job. He was feeling Phil's impulses, and it was completely surreal. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to be connected at the brain as well. He could feel Phil's intention to move towards the Conn-Pod a split second before he actually moved. He'd thought he knew what was coming, with the way he and Phil were so intuitive of each other in the combat room, but now he could see it was entirely different to know what was coming, rather than to guess.

"Do you prefer the right or the left side?" Phil asked as they entered the Conn-Pod. Clint wanted to rush all over and check everything out. He'd never been in a real Pod before, only the replicas. He knew there wasn't any actual difference between the two, but somehow knowing that it was the real deal made it infinitely more fascinating.

"Well, I'm left handed?" Clint offered, and Phil nodded, moving to the right side. He stepped right up into the dock, the machinery coming up and grasping his boots while the dock slid right up to his back and connected to the spinal clamp. Clint took a breath and stepped up as well, the machinery whirring as soon as he was in the right place. He felt trapped, with his legs held tight to the ground and metal wrapped tightly around his wrists, even though he knew it would all become an extension of him after the neural handshake. It was still disconcerting, and Phil cast him a reassuring smile like he already knew what Clint was thinking as the dock connected to his back and he felt a small surge. He jerked a little bit, and Phil jerked right with him. The spinal clamps made sure that if Clint moved, Phil moved with him instinctually, and vice versa. Clint had known that was what the spinal clamps did, but it seemed that knowing things and actually having them happen were very different.

"That was weird," Clint said, and Phil only laughed, but Clint knew that he understood what Clint meant. It didn't force them to move together, but it made it feel just a bit wrong if they didn't. Phil reached towards the control console, pressing the communication button.

"Locked in and ready to drop," he reported, and Clint's nerves ratcheted right up again.

"Hear you loud and clear, Coulson," Tony Stark, the Chief LOCCENT officer responded, "Preparing to drop."

The doors behind them slammed shut, and Clint could hear them being latched into place. He took another deep breath, listening the sound of Phil's breathing over the comm system in their helmets to help regulate his own breath. It actually helped a lot, and it only took a few seconds for him to get a hold of himself again.

"All right, Clint?" Phil asked, and Clint nodded, not exactly trusting his voice yet.

"Release for drop," Tony's voice said, and the Conn-Pod gave a mighty jerk and then started descending rapidly. Clint did his very best not shriek like he was tempted to do, but Phil grinned at him like he knew anyway. They came to a sudden stop when they hit the Jaeger, the sounds of mechanical whirring rising up again as the Pod was screwed on and bolted into place and the Eagle Eye booted up. Clint could see the crowd of people that had gathered to watch through the screen, and he thought he could see Natasha's bright red curls somewhere towards the back.

"Are you ready for the Drift?" Phil asked, and Clint swallowed harshly before answering the affirmative. "Just remember, don't chase the rabbit. Let the memories flow through you, don't latch on."

"Right," Clint answered, because he felt like he should speak.

"Initiating Neural Handshake in fifteen," Tony said, and Clint leaned back against the support of the dock, letting his eyes close. He was ready. The count hit one and then Clint was swept off into a swirl of blue and memories. He saw a small dark-haired boy brandishing a toy shield at an imaginary foe which melted into the face of a woman with kind blue eyes and the sensation of kisses on bruises, which transitioned into the same boy, a little older, getting punched in the nose on the playground, which quickly shifted into Clint's own father standing over him and kicking him in the stomach, the blow hard enough that it almost made him vomit. He remembered that day and the fear he'd felt, the way his father had screamed about how he should dash Clint's brains out all over the floor, and thinking that maybe he would actually do it that time. He could feel the shame and the terror and the bile rising up in the back of his throat as his stomach throbbed from the blow, and then he heard, very sternly, his own name, and suddenly he was pushed out of the memory and back into an endless flow of his and Phil's jumbled memories.

"Are you back with me?" Phil asked, and Clint almost choked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." He could feel Phil stretching through him, to the deepest corners of his mind, and he wondered if Phil could feel how Clint felt about him. The all consuming throb of love and devotion mixed with affection, all jumbled together.

"I can," Phil answered him out loud, and then Clint was feeling a push of emotions that felt very similar to what he'd just inadvertently sent out, but they were clearly Phil's and not his. He almost choked with disbelief, and he wanted to say something, anything, but he knew it wasn't the time. Being locked in meant that it was time to be professional, not talking about personal feelings. Vaguely he could feel Phil agreeing with him, and it was such a strange sensation.

He had thought that Drifting would be like talking into each other's brains, but it wasn't really like that at all. It was like being the same person, in a way. He felt Phil's emotions, his intentions, and the reasoning behind them. He felt them like they were his own, pressed so close together that it was hard for him to figure out where he ended and Phil began.

"Neural Handshake locked in and strong," Tony said.

Clint felt Phil's intentions, but it wasn't like a suggestion that he chose to follow. It was like he had made the decision to move that way himself, like he and Phil were no longer independent of each other. They shared one mind and one body, and they moved as a unit. Together, they lifted their arms with the round digital control unit in hand, and vaguely Clint could feel the Jaeger moving to copy their stance around them, like his nerve endings extended all the way out the edge of bolts and steel. He could feel the outside ground under their feet. He felt powerful in a way he'd never felt before in his life, and it was exhilarating in a way he couldn't even begin to describe.

"Right hemisphere calibrated," Phil reported, and together they clenched their right fist.

"Left hemisphere calibrated," Clint said, and their left arm rose to demonstrate. He could still see the flicker of their memories running through the back of their brain, but he forced himself not to get dragged back in. It wouldn't do anyone any good.

"You're doing well," Phil told him, and Clint felt a glow of pride rush through them. He couldn't even be embarrassed by it, because while he was aware that they were separate entities, it felt like they were one. Clint was Phil and Phil was Clint, and all their thoughts and feelings were shared, because that was how it was supposed to be.

They ran through range of motion tests, touching each individual finger to their thumb on each hand, lifting both arms, clenching their fists, taking one step forward and one step back, crouching down low and rising back up. They were perfect, powerful and strong, and Clint felt drunk on it.

"Jaeger performing to maximum effect, neural bridge remains strong," Tony reported. "I think we've got the perfect pair here, Marshall."

"Excellent," Fury said. "Good job, Eagle Eye. Test is complete."

"Preparing to collapse neural bridge in ten…" Clint forced himself to lean back and accept the collapse, aware that he and Phil couldn't remain connected forever, no matter how good the idea sounded. The break was a fast indiscernible rush of blue, and then Clint was very aware that he was mostly alone in his head. He could still feel Phil very vaguely, like he'd lost a limb but it was still connected by a very fine thread. He knew part of that was because they were still hooked in to the Conn-Pod, and therefore still connected by the spinal clamp, but he also knew that a bit of that feeling would never go away, and he welcomed it. They didn't speak as the Conn-Pod disconnected and returned to the docking bay, nor did they say anything while they were removed from their armor and changed back into their regular clothes, but when Fury dismissed them, they both headed back towards Phil's room by mutual agreement without having to say a word.

Clint wondered if he should say something as Phil closed and latched the door behind them, but then he realized that there was nothing he could say. Phil had felt everything just as Clint had, free and unrestrained like they were one being instead of two. What could either of them possibly say with words that would express more than that?

Phil seemed to be in complete agreement with him, because when he turned away from the door, his hands immediately came up to cradle Clint's face, and then they were kissing, pressed as closely together as they could get, like they could reestablish the Drift just by wanting it. If he had been told the day before that he would be kissing Phil Coulson like he was the only source of air, he would have laughed at the idea. But now there were no doubts anywhere in him about how Phil felt for him, and he knew that Phil was the same.

Still, when they broke apart to catch their breaths, Clint reached up to take a hold of one of Phil's hands and murmured, "I love you," to him, quiet and sweet.

"I know," Phil told him with a cheeky smile.

"I know you know," Clint said. "I just wanted to say it out loud. Wouldn't be too bad to hear it either," he wheedled, and Phil rolled his eyes fondly.

"I love you, too," he said, and Clint smiled.

There were still the kaiju to worry about, and there was still the possibility that one or both of them could die at any moment, but the apocalypse didn't seem quite so bad when Clint knew that he would have someone beside him to face it head on.


End file.
